How Can This Be? Fourth Sunday of Advent

 

Luke 1:26-38

December 20, 2020

 

            “Mary, did you know that your baby boy will one day walk on water?

            Mary did you know that your baby boy will save our sons and daughters?

            Did you know that your baby boy has come to make you new?

            This child that you delivered will soon deliver you.”

            The first time I ever heard this song was on my now well-played Kathy Mattea Christmas Album. With all due respect to other groups who have recorded this song, Mattea’s version is my favorite. I admit that the first time I heard this song I did not give the larger theological implications of the lyrics much thought. The question of whether Mary knew the fullness of her son’s identity was not an issue for me. When I listened to the lyrics, I just thought,

            “This is such a pretty song, especially in Mattea’s rich alto. And the questions posed are interesting. They make me think both about this tiny baby and the larger scope of who he was, who he grew up to be, and who he is right now to all of us.”

            However, the question, “Mary did you know?” is a much larger issue than I ever realized. I even think it is fair to call it a controversy. Every year about this time I see emphatic statements on social media,

            “Mary knew!”

            “Of course Mary knew. Gabriel told her.”

            I think this goes beyond loving or hating this song. It seems to me that the question of Mary knowing or not knowing points to a deeper theological question about Mary, who she was and the part she played in bringing Jesus into the world – literally and figuratively.

            So, I am going to wade into the controversy and say definitively, without hesitation, without vacillation – that I think it is both and. Mary knew! And … Mary didn’t know!

First, Mary knew what Gabriel told her. Gabriel was sent to Mary by God, and he began this tremendous announcement by saying,

“Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you!”

In what is perhaps the greatest understatement of all time, Luke wrote that Mary was,

“much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be.”

I too would have been perplexed … and baffled … and confounded … and terrified. Did

Mary turn around to see if her heavenly visitor was addressing someone behind her? Did she pale and begin to shake when she realized he was speaking to her? Did she grow faint or bow low to the ground in terror? Perhaps she did all the above because Gabriel’s next words were,

            “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And now you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.”

            Mary responded with only one question,

            “How can this be?”

            Unlike Zachariah, John the Baptist’ father, Mary did not protest or question the angel’s words. Richard Rohr wrote that while Zachariah sought knowledge, Mary sought wisdom. But I suspect that still she could not fathom, could not begin to imagine how what the angel was saying would be or could be accomplished. How can this be?

            The angel explained to her that through the power of the Holy Spirit she would conceive, and because the child she would carry was created this way, he would be called the “Son of God.”  And remember, “Nothing is impossible with God.”

            Mary knew. Mary knew. She believed Gabriel’s words that God regarded her, God favored her. Mary accepted and understood that God was doing something amazing, miraculous, and incredible through her, and that the son she would bear would be the king, the savior for whom her people had so long waited. He would sit on the throne of his ancestor David. His kingdom would have no end. She, a lowly, poor, insignificant young girl, was favored by God. She would bear the Son of God into the world. Mary knew.

            I understand how important it is theologically and spiritually that Mary knew. Mary was not just an empty vessel or a mindless pawn that God used to fulfill God’s purposes. Mary was a flesh and blood person. She had a mind and a heart. She had a will. She had a voice and a conscience. Mary heard the angel’s words. She asked her question, and she accepted the answer. Mary knew she was going to have a baby, and that this baby was born of God and destined for an unimaginable greatness. She was favored by God, and this baby would be God’s own. Mary was a flesh and blood person, and Mary knew.

            But … Mary was a flesh and blood person, which meant that she had limits. She believed the angel Gabriel, and she could grasp the bigger picture of who her son would be. But Mary was also finite, and she – like any of us – could only grasp so much. Gabriel gave her a general outline of who her son would be. The fullness of his identity, his detailed, lived truth would be revealed over time. Mary was a flesh and blood human being. While she knew and believed that the child she was about to bear would be special, God’s own Son, could she see beyond that? Could she fully understand what being God’s Son would entail? Could she see what was to come? Could she envision how his life and her own would unfold? Did she know, really know, what lay ahead? Could anyone really know? Mary could grasp the bigger picture, but that did not mean that she could foresee the details. In that moment when Gabriel gave her this amazing and overwhelming news, I cannot imagine that she could fully know. Mary did not know.

            Mary both knew and didn’t know. It seems to me that what is really important, really necessary, about this passage is not so much the depth or expanse of Mary’s understanding at that moment. What matters is how she responded.

            Mary said, “yes.”

            Mary was a flesh and blood person with a mind, a heart, a will. We Presbyterians believe both in predestination and free will. Free will suggests that Mary could have said, “No.” She could have said, “No thank you, Gabriel. Not me.” Think about it. Isn’t it possible that Mary could have said, “No.” She had a will. She had a mind. She was not just an empty vessel or a pawn to be manipulated by the divine. Think about why God worked through Mary in the first place. Wasn’t it so that God would become one of us? God would take on our flesh. What that says to me is that God does not just value our eternal souls. God values our flesh, this flesh, all flesh, right here and right now. And if God values flesh as well as souls, wouldn’t God have valued this young woman enough to bear her “no,” if she had said it?

            But that is what makes this story so amazing, even beyond this visit from an angel. Mary said, “Yes.” And listen to her yes.

            “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”

            Here am I. These are the same words Isaiah spoke in response to God’s call.

            “Whom shall I send? Here am I, send me.”

            Mary’s response is no less a response to a call from God than Isaiah or any of the prophets, any of the people God worked through over the course of history. She said, “yes,” to God’s call. She said, “yes,” to God’s purposes. She may not have known fully what was to come, but then again, do any of us know that when we answer a call from God? If we knew everything that lay ahead, every detail of what following God’s call means, what would our answer be? Mary knew, but what Mary knew was enough. She knew enough. And more importantly than that, is that she trusted. She trusted God completely. Whatever Mary knew or did not know about the future and this child she would bear, she knew something about the God who called her. She knew God and she trusted God.

            She trusted God and she said, “Yes.” She trusted God and she said, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” Let it be with me. Here am I.

            I’m a pretty solid protestant, but I think we have something to learn from our Roman Catholic brothers and sisters. I think we need to stop relegating Mary to this one Sunday of the year: The Annunciation Sunday, Mary’s Sunday. It seems to me that Mary is a role model for all of us when it comes to answering God’s call. She embodies what it means to trust God. She models what it means to step up, to say, “yes,” to have the courage to say, “Here am I; let it be with me.”

            Mary lived in troubled, tumultuous times just as we do. She lived as one was marginalized and overlooked. I suspect that sickness and death was as much a part of her world as life was. In this past year, haven’t those things become equally as real to us? Mary was a real person, with a real spirit, a real will and mind and heart. She was young, she was poor, she was female, and those factors increased her vulnerability. She would have been considered insignificant by the powers and principalities of that time and place. But her courage was as great as any warrior of her day or our own. Whatever Mary knew, whatever Mary didn’t know, she knew enough, and she trusted more. How can this be? With God, how can it not be?

            Let all of us, God’s regarded and loved children, trust God as Mary did. Let all of ustrust God enough to say, “Here am I.” Let all of us say, “Alleluia.”

            Amen.